That Damn Wedding
by historicallylate
Summary: Sharon, Andy, Wedding. Headcanon of what happened at the wedding and why Sharon and Andy stand across the room from each other afterwards. Slightly spoils "There's No Place Like Home". One-shot posted in two parts. (Because there's never enough wedding stories in this fandom.)
1. Part 1

**A/N: **_Humongous list of caveats:_

_I'm no fanfic writer, so this is the first real fanfic ever. (So obv do not own anything except for shoddy head!canon, poor writing skills and awesome flair for procrastination.)_  
_This was a warm-up writing exercise, so treat this as a first draft material. Biggest typos eliminated, everything else as is._  
_Sorry for Brit spelling._

_Written before season 2.5 premiere based on a conversation I had with a friend regarding "There's No Place Like Home". Spoilers up to that one._

_One-shot, posted in two parts._  
_Andy/Sharon + Rusty for flavour (in part 1)._

* * *

She really had tried to be 'his friend Sharon'. Truthfully, it hadn't been all that hard. Sure at first the situation felt a bit awkward with the usual first-date-esque pauses in conversation filled with furtive glances and self-aware embarrassed chuckles. Except it really wasn't a first anything and it certainly wasn't a date.

If it had been, the evening would have been a total success. Eventually. At least it would have been all that much easier to relate to the whole thing. As it stood, the whole thing was just a big mess and a veritable headache.

Everything got complicated only at the very end of the evening. That was a blessing in itself. Unfortunately there had not been any signs of the danger ahead. She had had a good night, a great night. She suspected he had had one too. At least he had said as much but not in so many words.

Because she hadn't given him the chance.

She had laughed at something he had said. She had done that a lot.

Her mood was nothing like he had seen her sporting, ever. It amused him and made him try to say things that would keep her doing whatever she did on and on. It always started as a big smile paired with attentive eyes (at some point he had noticed she always stopped whatever she happened to be doing — mid-sentence, mid-movement, mid-gesture — whenever he opened his mouth), then the smile turned into a grin and that grin transformed into a rolling laugh that made her hair flick attractively behind her shoulders. It was quite hypnotizing really.

He made it his game to have her laugh, or at least chuckle, at something as often as he could. At one point, just before the wedding party truly started to disband, he had made her laugh so often in a row that he actually got her to cry. She would blame the champagne, obviously.

Even during the ride to her appartment he had kept up his game. He didn't ask or in fact mention it at all when he started to walk her inside and she just laid her hand on his arm. He still marvelled how she kept her attention to him even in the downstairs lobby where she quickly nodded an answering greeting to a neighbour or two passing.

Waiting for the elevator she slipped her arm around the crook of his and amused, he watched her crouch down and one after the other slipped her heels off. Her eyes never left his and she offered no explanations to his wondering quirk of an eyebrow. She just listened what he was saying and absentmindedly gathered the killer shoes in her hand.

In the elevator he started to tell her a story about the time Nicole left for a visit with her grandparents and managed to forgot her absolute favourite stuffed bunny. The story continued all the way up to her floor and the start of the hallway.

After that she had no clue what he had said. All she remembers is that it was something funny.

And then she did probably the most stupid thing she had done in a while. The most stupid thing in years. Possibly in decades.

She stopped. She turned to slightly face him. She laughed. She tilted her head back and then brought her eyes up to meet his. She let herself rise up on her toes. And she kissed him.

The one and half a second her lips touched his was quite sobering experience. Two seconds before she would have (grudgingly, but still) admitted to be too drunk and — well, happy (or something) to attempt anything that required any semblance of poise or coordination. Remarkably she would have been wrong. The way she managed to shuffle three quick steps backwards in a straight line while simultaneously raising three fingers to cover her lips, holding tight to her shoes and not hit the narrow corridor's walls was almost graceful.

For the next six seconds she kept her wide eyes on his similarly widened ones. When the time was up, she started to slowly shake her head and he tried to get a hold of some words that would agree to come out properly. Instead he straightened out his hand and tried to approach her.

"Sharon —"

She leapt backwards more and faster than her first reaction had been. His eyes switched from wide to resignated, and on a later recollection, perhaps even some amount of hurt. At that point in time she had not concentrated on anything but moving backwards, shaking her head and keeping her lips hidden.

That would have been alright but then she reached her door (to be fair, she actually backed past it) where she realised she didn't have a free hand to dig out her keys. Deciding it would be so much easier to keep an eye on him in case he tried to approach again if she didn't let go of her shoes, she removed the fingers from her lips in order to fish the keys from her purse before she attacked the lock like her life depended on it.

When the key turned in the lock, she assumed it safe to turn her back on him and she continued to slip through the smallest crack possible into her home. Not before he had tried again with her name to which she, without looking, only mumbled an incoherent effort at a 'good night' in response.

Inside she was greeted with silence, one lamp set to low and light reflecting from the kitchen's under the cabinet lights. Those told her Rusty was already back and doing something in his room. She laid her keys on the cabinet by the door and the shoes on the floor beside it as quietly as she could before traipsing soundlessly to the nearest seat on the couch. She still had the purse under her arm and as she sat down she brought the fingers again to cover her lips.

Out in the hallway Andy's feet were stuck to the floor. His mind was stuck on a loop. What the hell happened? He stared at the door that had clicked shut maybe minutes ago. What the hell was up with that too? When the questions starting with 'what the hell' gave the smallest in for any other thought his first response was to go and knock on the door and talk this — what the hell 'this' exactly was — out with her.

Staring the closed door, his hand at the ready to knock, his mind truly started to work. She had looked so... bewildered. So surprised, so startled, so... scared? He wasn't finding the words but he knew what he meant. The point was that she wasn't herself, thinking like herself. And Sharon wasn't someone who liked to have a talk with a capital t while getting her ducks in a row. No good would come from insisting to see her right now.

He debated what the hell he should do. On the other hand he suspected she would blow this all out of proportions if he didn't get a chance to reassure her. After all, it was nothing. Honestly, he was more surprised by her reaction than the action itself. After all, what was a second of quite nice action to a minute of almost comical reaction. Personally, he would have liked it the other way around any day.

Sharon almost jumped up from the couch when her phone vibrated. She dropped the purse next to her and dug out the offending item, still with one hand stuck to her lips. Her mind was blank and she stared the phone like she had forgotten what it was for or how it worked. She was still staring it when the vibration began again springing her to action. She dropped the phone on the seat and backed all the way to the kitchen wide-eyed.

She rested her hand on the breakfast island and the coolness of the surface kick-started her mind. 'Oh. My. God.' was pretty much the extent of her mind's capabilities at the moment, but still, it was a start. The second coherent thought was 'Wine. Need wine.' and that was okay too.

The clink of the bottle against the glass was a tell-tale sign of her hand's shakiness. It almost got her more upset since this wasn't her. She needed to get her nerves together and her mind working. And she needed to be quiet because the last thing she wanted was to have a conversation with Rusty. Which would probably be more like a big brush-off and require a lot of explaining and apologising on its own tomorrow.

The first glass of wine calmed her somewhat even if her phone kept buzzing in the couch cushions. At least the fingers glued to her lips seemed to relax their post. Standing in the kitchen she kept looking in the direction she knew her phone was. Reaching the bottom of the glass her mind had found too many thoughts. Primarily self-berating ones but the last sip of the wine brought a urgent sense of duty. It really could be work and she really, really, should answer.

Sighing she poured herself another glass and defeatedly started skulking back into the living room where fate awaited. She sat down and picked the phone in her hand. With a look up and a silent prayer she hoped it wouldn't be work.

It wasn't. It was worse than that.

Four missed calls from Andy. A text message.

"Oh God."

Sharon let her hand fall on her lap and her neck to relax against the back of the sofa. Closing her eyes she started to think about the evening they had had.

The wedding had been beautiful, the reception relaxed. No big incidents, no tricky situations. She had liked the wedding. She had liked the food. She had liked the company.

She had liked the company too much. She had been too relaxed. She shouldn't have done that.

But it had kept Andy relaxed. He had deserved to see his little girl get married without going through all the techniques learnt in anger management. And he had been great company.

When it came down to it, between her letting her guard down and the way weddings affected her, unfortunate situations were inevitable. Especially when combined with the champagne. Yes, the champagne was definitely it.

And the 'unfortunate situation' wasn't so bad, really. Frankly, what was a little peck between friends. And if she really thought about it, she would have kissed any man she had been with, what with the mood she was in and the alcohol in her system. Which was entirely too much even before the two glasses of wine she had just polished off.

Except that they weren't just friends. They worked together. And she had kissed this man. Because she had wanted to. Besides three glasses during the whole evening wasn't all that much. And —

"Sharon, you awake?"

Shit. This on top of everything. Should she pretend to be asleep just to ignore him? Wasn't that wrong? But she couldn't muster the energy for any sort of even remotely sensible conversation.

"Sharon, your phone is ringing. And your fake sleep isn't that great."

Well, luckily his voice carried some sense of amusement. She testingly opened one eye and looked at the smirking face of a teenager.

"I'm not faking sleep. I'm thinking."

"Yeah."

It sounded like a question but Sharon knew he wouldn't, in the name of politeness, press her for an answer if she didn't offer one.

"So what are you thinking about in your party dress, at midnight, ignoring your phone?"

Then again, things didn't seem to go her way this evening.

"Weddings." At his incredulous look she felt obliged to add, "I always get into a mood at weddings. Never mind me, Rusty".

She flapped her hand dismissively, pulled a thin smile on her face and hoped that would be the extent of the conversation he wanted to have.

"Well, shouldn't you get your phone at least?"

This was a little harder to wiggle out of, but never say that Sharon Raydor didn't try.

"It's not work and I'm really not in a mood to have extended conversations." Realising that it sounded like she didn't want to talk to him (though it was the truth but not in the way it sounded — or whatever, her mind wasn't really working right now, or was it 'working right right now'?, she wasn't sure) she quietly added "I'll return the call tomorrow".

If ever Rusty had a face that conveyed utter suspicion, this might have been it. If he had stared at her unmoving even a moment longer she would have blurted out something she would have regretted almost instantly. Good thing Rusty hadn't mastered the basic interrogation techniques. Hopefully anyone wouldn't teach him any time soon.

"Okay. Well, I was off to bed. Good night."

"Good night, Rusty."

She watched him retreat to his room before she returned to her previous position and closed her eyes. Where was she?

Oh yes. What the hell was she thinking? How can she be that stupid? She really had made a mess of things. And what the hell for?

Because you wanted to, her traitorous mind instantly piped up.

Sharon snapped her head back up and her eyes opened wide. If there was any truth to the old adage of not twisting your face unless you wanted it to stick that way, or whatever the old wives tale said, her eyes might sport that deer in the headlights look permanently after this night.

She had told herself she had wanted to kiss him.

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no. No.

Yes. Yes you did. You thought about it already at the reception.

Not true.

Very true. You couldn't get enough of him tonight.

Well that might be an overstatement.

Alright, possibly yes. But still, that kiss might have been an accident, but a welcome one. You waited long enough.

At that she hadn't the intelligence to form a response. Great, her mind was — no, she couldn't finish even that comment properly. She rubbed her temples with her thumb and pinky and told her subconscious to shut up and stop helping.

Her phone buzzed again on her lap. She sighed. This too. As if there wasn't enough things to feel rotten about. However, the calls and texts weren't going to go away.

Three more missed calls. All from Andy.

One new text. She closed her eyes for a second before reading the two he had sent.

'Don't panic. Everything's OK. I had a great night. Talk to me.'

'It's alright, Sharon. Let's talk when you're ready. Goodnight.'

Kind of sweet really. He might really know how her mind worked. Even if he sort of over-reacts with the million calls. But the texts helped. Things like these were why she had been and was warming up to him.

Or at least they helped until Sharon read the messages again and noticed the bold letters spelling out 'Lt. Flynn'. That on the sender line was horrible enough to make her feel colder towards him than the Winters in Canada.

Actually, it's 'should make her feel colder towards him', her subconscious helped her again. There's a big difference in doings and shoulds.


	2. Part 2

**A/N:**_ Part 2/2. Sorry to leave you guys hanging, was too tired to edit both halves last night._

* * *

She had had a great plan. Going to work early, attacking a whole load of report reviews and being as inconspicuous as imaginable, she would avoid any early attempts at 'morning after' conversations anyone might have planned on. Everybody knew not to approach her office if she didn't acknowledge them beforehand and if she was immersed in paperwork, she hardly could acknowledge anyone.

He had a great plan. Stalk into the office earlier than anyone else, lay in wait in the lobby for her to appear and have a slight gauge on her mood. Knowing her, she would absolutely refuse any attempts at having personal conversations (at least of this kind) in the office, but he might get her to say something, and at this point anything was great, in the break room or on their way up.

Her plan worked, his didn't.

By the time Andy thought to check whether she was already in the building, she had already been there for hours. He had hardly gotten to his desk when the others started filing in. Great, just great.

On that point, Sharon agreed. She had seen him come in from the corner of an eye and had been immediately reminded of the conversation she had to have sooner rather than later. If only she was any closer to finding any words to say. Luckily she didn't have to come up with any before the rest of the squad filed in.

To top it all off, Morales stopped by first thing to give her a report on their latest victim. She spent the time familiarizing herself with the case while the squad got their acts together. Another streak of luck (she momentarily felt like all the luck she was missing on the evening of the wedding was going to pile up on this morning) in her efforts to avoid any... discussions of a personal nature came in the form of a business card. She could hand it to Andy and get him away from talking distance.

The way Provenza asked to talk to her didn't seem suspicious at all. The way he faltered and told her it could wait was ominous. Especially after the way he had looked at Andy before checking on the rest of the squad.

He knows. Okay, this is it. This truly is it. Note to self: never ever agree to do anything socially with anyone if you can't keep yourself in control, especially if you have to work with said anyone and his best friend.

Having successfully avoided a certain member of her team, at the end of the day she bailed from her office through the side entrance without stopping to say good night to the people still in the squad room. Though LAPD Captains didn't really bail out of anything, they just had important police... stuff to do elsewhere and rather went to do them unintercepted. (In this case the 'important police stuff' was more like cooking Rusty dinner.)

Never mind if said Captains' personal lives were big messes. 'Totally fucked up' was probably the better description at this point. She really had to do something about that before things got difficult.

It truly hadn't been this big of a deal. She had only kissed a friend. Who worked for her. Who she needed to see almost every day. And then she had fled like an untamed mustang. Like the true picture of sensibility and control that she was. Like it was even a proper kiss.

Fleetingly she thought that she really was a bit more appalled about the latter parts of that than the actual kissing part.

And why on Earth, in the name of anything that is holy, does Rusty need relationship advice on a day like this? Couldn't this have waited for next week when she hopefully had either gotten a grip on herself or gotten herself killed. Yes, maybe she should go out on the field more. A gunshot wound sounded pretty good right now.

This had been the day from hell. Not made any better at all by the unfortunate result of giving Andy the damn business card: having to interview 'Scarface' with Andy, having him leaning closer all during the first half of the interview. It hadn't bothered her at the time, but in the retrospective mood she was in that evening it felt damned annoying. Maybe 'Scarface' had a point on Ed. Maybe the only decent thing in this misery was killing herself.

At that thought she had to laugh out loud. Getting a little dramatic Sharon, don't you think?

Like scurrying away without a word after the tiniest blunder and keeping it up for days isn't dramatic? Yes, real classy, that one.

Alright, tomorrow. Tomorrow she would start by clearing this mess. At least until then, she refused to think about anything relating to that damn wedding. Her mind could go and screw itself, but she wouldn't think about that wedding. Or anything it led to. That was a promise and she would keep it.

Unfortunately, she couldn't start by clearing the mess. Tao was ready with information the moment she stepped in. The squad room had been filled with evidence in the form of very lovely, but very counterfeited, purses. She had to put her personal messes on the back burner and start focusing on the case. And that was fine by her, if she was completely honest.

Though, overall, she had mellowed. She wasn't that jumpy anymore. Not as likely to blow. This, however, wasn't apparent to Andy since he kept his distance and at every possible point made sure there was at least Tao between them. In a way she did prefer it this until they got the chance to talk.

The only time the whole morning he interacted with her was when he tried to hand her a piece of the evidence. It was a nice purse with long handles and he dangled it from his fingers. She hesitated a moment before taking it in order to inspect it.

Realising she was cuddling the (very lovely) bag Andy had given her, she had to push it back. This wasn't the apology and it really shouldn't be him offering the olive branch in the first place. Why she would associate holding a piece of evidence to a complicated scenario of an apology she really didn't know.

Apparently though he had been thinking along the same lines. The sigh with which he accepted the bag was telling. Even more telling was the resignation with which he offered to go and break 'Scarface's' alibi.

She listened to the story of Ed Danby's death and to her horror realised that her witness was about as coherent in his story as her thoughts had felt for quite some time now. On top of the incoherency she seemed to jump from professional to personal compartments in a way that left her feeling like she was missing bits of both, her day and her thoughts. Like someone had used an eraser randomly on her mind.

She found the bit about playing dominoes funny and while trying to repress a laugh, she briefly wondered whether Andy knew how to play.

Of course he would.

She felt like giggling at the thought when it and Andy returned with the karaoke video. Good thing he stayed across the room and didn't spare her a glance (which in itself was a bit unnerving). She missed the way they worked together and that was reason enough for soldiering on with that uncomfortable conversation.

If they ever got a moment for it. It was going to be a long night.

She should have known that with the amount of luck she had used up yesterday, today wouldn't be her day. She was having a very quick, very late lunch (it had turned into more like supper) in her office whilst waiting for a word about their court time when Andy just walked in and closed the door without any preamble or permission.

She jumped up from her chair and felt her eyes go about to the size of saucers. She had had enough practice lately for it to be completely possible.

Not now! Not ready! Do I have spinach between my teeth?

He didn't have such qualms.

"Look Sharon, I hate to corner you like this but we really should talk."

When her response was only a nervous fumbling of the pen she had in her fingers, he continued, "I know you like to think things through first, but, honestly, you usually overdo it".

Seeing the irked rise of her eyebrow, he tried to placate her with raised palms and "No offence, just an observation".

She wanted to respond with something scathing, but felt it better to keep that facade of annoyance than to have him know she could only form sentences that started with at least three I's and ended without making any sense.

Instead, she firmly crossed her arms and cleared her throat in the firm hope it would sound like she was about to unleash seven kinds of hell unto him.

"Anyway," he jumped in as fast as he could, "I had a great night last night. Thank you so much for coming."

All he got in answer was a 'I'm listening' look.

"Right... Like I said, I had a great night. Up until the spooked deer act."

Oh hell. Did he just call her a piece of wildlife? This was definitely not going the way he had planned.

His estimation was confirmed when she took half a step backwards, bit her lower lip and turned her eyes to caress the edge of her desk.

"I mean... Your reaction was a bit much, Sharon. I'm telling you we were okay. We still are. The kiss was fine."

He saw her take the other half of that step backwards and loosen her stance to run her hands along her upper arms in comforting strokes.

"Hey, it's nothing to worry about. Nothing to lose any sleep over."

When she just kept staring at the table not reacting he quickly brushed his neck and looked down before trying to lighten the mood.

"It's not like it was the best I've ever had."

The strangled laugh she gave him sounded totally fake even to her own ears.

"I know, not helping."

No, this time he really wasn't.

What did you expect? That he falls madly in love with you with a kiss like that? You kissed your grandma better than that. And she had to love you.

That statement warranted a mental groan. She got to refrain from saying things like that about mothers and unconditional love. Think of Rusty!

Not really the point here.

No, no, it wasn't.

"Sharon? Look, don't worry about it. I've done more stupid things drunk than I care to admit."

Great, now he thinks she was drunk. You are a fabulous friend, Sharon Raydor. Truly fabulous.

"Not that I'm saying you were. But I've been plenty of times." A beat. "And not that what you did was stupid —" he faded out the sentence in frustration.

They both just stared the corners of her desk.

"Let's just both agree to forget all about it. It's not like —" She had half a mind to stop him from finishing that seeing as the last sentence he started like that went so well. "— it's not like we'll be in that position ever again."

She grimaced. Yep, definitely should have interrupted.

But he's right you know, he's got just the one daughter to get married.

But there is such a thing as a divorce.

But you don't believe in that. Besides, even if she gets remarried, what are the odds that he will want you to go with him again? You did such a great job this time.

That's true.

And besides, a divorce still gives you six months to woman up. And maybe practice that bit about the kissing too.

This time the mental groan wasn't only mental.

Her subconsciousness was right. She should woman up and get this thing back on the right tracks.

She raised her eyes slightly and let her hands fall in front of her.

"You're right. Let's just forget about it. I'm sorry for everything and I was out of line." She straightened, shrugged and offered him a smirk. "Weddings always do that to me."

He gave her a tentative chuckle in return. "Hey, no harm, no foul."

She stepped around her desk offering him her hand.

"Friends?"

He smiled at her gesture and took her hand.

"Definitely friends."

Her smile was radiant for the first time today. He smiled a bit wider too and turned away to leave.

"And hey, if for nothing else, I'm glad you can stop sending me away now. It was getting a bit tedious," he added over his shoulder before exiting.

She faltered for a second and was the closest to blushing she'd felt in a long time. Damn that man could see through her.

And it's a good thing too.

Her subconscious still wasn't helping. What the hell was still up with that?

Strike that thought. She didn't need to know. She had a job to do. Important captainly things to sort out. Sit down and finish her 'lunch'. Check her phone to see if Rusty had tried to contact her.

She sat down and looked at her empty desk. Not a lot of work to do at the moment. However, finishing lunch, that she could do. Checking messages on her phone could also fill a minute or two.

It was a good plan until she noticed the text messages from last night. She sighed. The least she could do was to add his first name in her phonebook. Just in case.

Just in case of what? Was she planning on a repeat performance of last night's abysmal behaviour? Or perhaps that of the night of Nicole's wedding? Because if she was, what she needed to be holding in her hand wasn't a phone but a gun.

Before she had the time to start berating herself again, Andy knocked on the doorjamb and popped his head in.

"Captain, court awaits."

He waited for her to exit and fell into step with her behind her left shoulder. They were back to normal and reaching the courtroom she didn't hesitate a moment (well, that was a slight lie) when she took a seat next to him in the gallery.

They listened to the proceedings and she leaned towards him without sparing it any thought. Every once in a while she stole a glance at him from the corner of an eye. She briefly wondered what it would be like to actually have him kiss her. Properly. Would he — No, not a work place line of thought!

But her subconscious mind wouldn't listen. It was already gloating at her feeble efforts to take control. Face it, you lost.

She should never have invited herself to the wedding. Weddings usually didn't mess up her mind quite like this one had. But then again she usually didn't attend the weddings of daughters of — of what the hell Andy was.

She seemed to be leaving a lot of unfinished thoughts these days. Not a usual occurrence. And she usually didn't smile awkwardly at her subordinates in the middle of court sessions. More justice, less date.

Oh, you want a date now, do you? her subconscious threw in knowingly.

She really should do something about that voice in her head. What did she do last time? It had been sleeping a long time before the wedding, and frankly, she hadn't missed it one bit.

The little voice wasn't giving up. It would have happened sooner or later, weddings or no. You know what you need to do. You just don't like weddings enough.

In spite of feeling the smug reply her mind might conjure up, she was done having these conversations. Oh, alright, you win.

As far as Sharon was concerned, damn that wedding.

* * *

**A/N2:**_ Thank you all for reading & thank you for the comments! I'm sorry to say this latter half wasn't as strong as the first one, but hopefully it wasn't too sucky. I didn't really get the effect I was going for but I hope it was at least readable. :)_

_This story will not get more chapters/sequels, but I have a couple more of these little warm ups written (Christmas! S/A/P!) and might post them at some point._  
_... although the Christmas one is pretty much a straight sequel to this. *shrug*_


End file.
